The brown man gave a not at all muffled shriek as his hooves nearly slipped out from underneath him on the spray-slick rock. His flank pressed harshly into the stone wall, ignoring the salt-encrusted texture as he tried desperately to maintain his balance on the narrow ledge. Some form of moss or lichen had begun to grow, and was soaked with the ocean spray, making it only all the more difficult to walk.
And then he made the mistake of looking down.
Oh gods oh gods oh gods oh gods-
He harshly slammed his eyes shut, throwing his head up and pressing it against the rock as he swallowed back the vertigo that threatened to overtake him. That would not be a good thing when the very site that induced the vertigo were the sharp, broken pieces of the cliff far below being endlessly battered by the waves.
It had only been a day, or two, or even three, he honestly wasn't sure, since the time he had had an unexpected encounter with a strange Caretaker. This was exactly why he hated setting hoof anywhere that wasn't at least a little bit familiar. When you were familiar with a place, you knew it well and knew every nook and cranny. When you knew all the things about a place, you knew who lived there too. And when you knew who lived there, you knew their habits and where they liked to be. And when you knew where they liked to be, you knew how to avoid them.
And you never had to worry about an astray encounter.
(Flower-girl didn't count, she was... weird like that.)
But going into a place you weren't so familiar with meant that you didn't know who could be there, and meant that you ran the risk of unwanted encounters.
(For further details, see the file 'Devour' stored in archive 33 subsection 2, clearance level C.)
Hence the Caretaker problem.
And apparently, at some point in the encounter, the young man had gotten turned around. He had forgotten which way the swamp was, and in the endless confusion of the plains he'd turned to trying to find his way back by using the stars as a map. Which he could not quite recall how to do, and so just set off in a direction that seemed promising.
(Really it was just a random direction, there was no sensibility to which way he went.)
And the end result of his poorly made decision was thus, and he found himself stranded in the midst of a vast, rolling, and broken cliffside.
Okay, perhaps his lack of direction wasn't the only fault here. Perhaps there had been some general poor decision making involved in getting him into his current situation.
Really now, he had never been close enough to see the ocean before. And when he saw what looked to be a stretch of coastline far below, he seemed to forget about the dizzying heights, and the worries of falling that pricked at his flesh. He forgot about just how truly treacherous the way down was and the fact that perhaps, just this once, his fears were not quite unfounded.
He had been so enamored with the thought of feeling the waves lapping at his hooves that he just had to go down there and check it out, forgetting in the meantime that he was far from an experienced climber.
But really, who could blame his child-like enthusiasm?
He could, quite a lot.
And as the young man shakily managed to inch his way along the ledge to a far-too distant widening of the rocky outcropping... Well, let's just say that if berating oneself was a sport, he was currently an Olympic gold medalist.
Usually the cliff's are a place filled with anticipation and wild joy, the youth and those with the wind in their veins soared and raced precariously across the edges while their winged friends soared above. The thunderous roar of the ocean collided and joined the excited shouts and declarations, creating an anthem which would instill the most still of souls into a fervor.
Isorath often flew along their jagged edges, elegant and sleek as he glided through the air on Dragon's wings. An ethereal streak of white laced with gold, glittering and gleaming against the wispy clouds and crystal skies.
Today however, the song of the ocean and it's capricious winds were interrupted by a shriek. One of terror and not of excited glee nor one uttered to drum up inner courage before leap. A shriek which easily tore the Regent from his wandering thoughts and snapped his vision downward. Lilac eyes easily found the source of the discord, and a pale maw twisted into a bemused smile.
Slowing until he hovered in the air, each stroke of his wings like thunder and silver hair billowing wildly in the breeze, he took a moment and simply observed.
Ah, someone had fell for the lure of the beach and the tides gentle, inviting embrace. Too blind to see the steep and perilous descent that would fell even the most experienced climber, especially those who had not been blessed with the gift of flight.
A predicament it appeared he couldn't fix, not without a helping hoof.
A cloven, porcelain hoof at that.
Today just might have been the strangers lucky day.
Slowly, the Kirin descended on white wings, mindful of the wind which howled and tugged at his hair and the rocks which would tear his fair flesh like a knife through butter. Down and down until he could look at the stranded stranger better.
He is forever intrigued and bemused by the differences posessed by each and every equine of Novus compared to him. Where Stallion's are masculine right down to the curve of their muscle and the smirk on their maw, he is feminine and sleek, long legged and sharply carved. Their dark coats near pitch in comparison to the marble complexion he wears. Their voices are deep gravel, rough and smokey. Woodsy and ember filled. His is light, lilted, soft and sing song in comparison, silk and mist combined.
This stranger matched the first, he matches the foreign aesthetic he has become used to. But does everything else fit?
But first...
"This way." He instructed softly, propelling himself backward with one beat of leather wings, a singular hoof tapped against the rocky outcrop in question. "There is a safer path back up, when you get to the Beach." Isorath elaborated with a tilt of his antlered head, in case the stranger was not convinced of his help.
The man had turned and begun to try and bury his head into the rock wall next to him, soft cries escaping his lips as he clenched his eyes shut and pinned his ears against his skull. The crashing of waves frightened him so, and he couldn't bare to look for the howling wind that ripped at his ears and made him all but deaf as he rendered himself blind of his own volition. His stomach turned from where it sat in his abdomen, and he felt nausea pounding through him and seeming to make the angry organ in his belly beat as hard as his heart with every pulse.
It felt swollen and ready to burst as breath seemed hard to come by, the man feeling a sensation akin to vertigo despite his shut eyes. Auru whimpered quietly as another crashing wave brought forth a minuscule cry.
Oh Vespera, oh Vespera...
He didn't even notice the beats of descending wings, too focused inward as he tried not to fall, and tried not to pass out at the same time.
"This way."
He would have leapt upward in any other situation, but so much of his attention was already on keeping his hooves firmly on the ground, that he was startled by the voice, yes, but he did not slip, only spun his head around away from the stone to try and get a better look. His hooves seemed to dig into the rock all the tighter.
It took a moment for the kirin to come into view, Auru's eyes having great difficulty focusing as everything seemed two-fold, no four-fold, no... was that even a horse? He had to resist the urge to shake his head, instead only blinking forcefully and trying to will away the upset in his belly without bile creeping into his throat as he swallowed heavily, looking upon the unknown stranger who was ever so close, tapping against the rock with a hoof.
"There is a safer path back up, when you get to the Beach."
Auru looked to the man who leapt back to give him room, before looking back to the outcrop before him, then to the man again. He swallowed, and slowly found the willpower to lift a limb shaking like a leaf in a hurricane, and slowly managed to get the appendage set down on the rock before him, testing it lightly and slowly transferring his weight onto it. Another limb was raised and slowly set forward as he looked to the stranger for further guidance, not saying anything for fear his shaking would only get worse as he heeded the advice given.
He felt like he was about to cause an avalanche with his own vibrations alone. Honestly, he wouldn't be surprised. But nonetheless, slowly but surely, and with much frightened shaking involved, he got his hooves moving, eyes flicking only between the stranger and the path before him and he followed the instructions given.
